


the curious case of eric dier’s immune system

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Tottenham Hotspur, england nt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Eric won’t stop getting sick, and Harry just wants to look after him





	the curious case of eric dier’s immune system

**Author's Note:**

> I had 2 spare hours today and so I wrote this because inspiration struck me and... I’m a slave to my whims 
> 
> If you are reading this and you’re banned from my fics then do the Right Thing (cough cough)

Eric Dier was on his death bed. 

Not literally of course, but he was sick for the third time in as many months and he really felt like the end was nigh. 

First it’d been his appendix, which - absolute nightmare, really. He’d been rushed into emergency surgery and had woken up with a big scar on his abdomen, a dull ache across his body and a series of worried texts from his teammates and family. His mum was panicking, insisting on flying to London to see him, and he had to sit on the phone with her for two hours before she agreed that her presence wouldn’t help much and she was better off where she was. He had messages from Dele, telling him he’d take care of the dogs whilst Eric was in hospital, and that he was only a phone call away if he needed anything. There were a few messages from the others - get well soon, hurry back, team’s shit without you - and, most strikingly, there was a barrage of incoherent messages from Harry Winks. 

Eric couldn’t work out what Harry was saying at first, not with his brain all fogged up on painkillers, so it was a good few hours before he got round to reading them properly. The initial texts were keyboard smashes of concern - wtf has happened what are u in surgery no one has proper answers are u okay should I come down to the hospital are u nhs or private dele said you was having open heart surgery I know u cant see these but just reply when you can is it really bad fuck I’m stressed out - and then, thirty minutes later according to the time stamp - ok so Kane says it’s appendicitis not open heart surgery sorry about that lol I’m confused you wasn’t having appendix problems before? Or do these things just come on I don’t know how long will you be out or do you not know yet fuck sake I’m sorry for all this I just didn’t expect it - and then, an hour later, a series of emojis - the chicken, two shrimp, two dogs, the yellow moon, the rock n roll hand sign - and finally, an hour ago - Del says he’s lookin after the dogs but can you tell me if you need a lift home or something bringing round yeah? - and Eric was exhausted just reading it. He sent off a reply:

I’m fine Harry   
Had a sore stomach, came into a&e   
Had my appendix taken out. Sore but totally fine, don’t worry   
I don’t need anything but thank you for the offer, your a legend 

and put his phone down, closing his eyes and drifting off into a painkiller induced sleep.

— 

Eric woke up with a thudding headache and a dry mouth and flipped his phone over, noting that it was 11 at night and he had a response from Harry: 

Are u sure it’s no problem like I could come and make you soup or something like I don’t want you to be on your own I know your mum isn’t here so (shrimp emoji)

Eric frowned at the light of his screen and typed out: 

Seriously I’m good 

He worried that was too blunt after he’d pressed send, so he went back and added a few emojis - a love heart, a sunshine, a little football. He put his phone back down, buzzed a nurse for more meds, and settled back against his pillows. 

***

He recovered from the bout of appendicitis over the holidays peacefully, pottering around in his house with the dogs happily. Eric was back to training in no time at all - and it was good to be back, even if Dele was out with his hammy and there was snow all over the ground and he missed his slippers when he was at work. 

When he’d walked into the locker room Harry Winks had appeared from nowhere and looked up at him, staring suspiciously, his heavy brows set low and his bottom lip jutting out slightly. Eric had frozen, suddenly - somehow pinned into stillness by the intensity of the look Harry was directing at him. 

“Are you okay to be back?” Harry questioned, rocking up on his toes and back down again. 

Eric swallowed and ignored the smell of expensive soap radiating off Harry’s skin. He was sure he himself just smelled like Labrador. “Why? Are you going to put me over your shoulder and take me home if I’m not?” Eric meant it to sound jokey, like banter, but his voice cracked when he said it and he wasn’t smiling. 

Harry scowled deeper. “If you aren’t well rested enough you’ll get sick again. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“No I won’t.” 

“Okay then,” Harry said, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Eric’s bubble of personal space. “We’ll see.” 

Eric watched him walk away and disappear round the corner with the strangest feeling rolling around in his stomach. It was only when Trippier snorted next to him that he snapped out of it, turning and glaring at Kieran. 

“What?!” He barked. 

“Nothin’,” Kieran sniggered, lacing up his boots. “Sayin’ nothin’.” 

When Eric got outside, he rolled up a compact little snowball and threw it right at Harry’s head. 

*** 

Eric woke up a couple of weeks later and was certain that he’d contracted the plague. His skin ached and his body shook with cold despite the feeling that he was burning up inside. He lay in bed for a few moments, wishing he lived with someone and could call for help, before he was propelled out of bed by a sudden desperate need to throw up. His body exploded - at both ends, unfortunately - and he had to call in sick to work. 

A doctor was sent round to his house and the diagnosis was a common flu virus, with bedrest, fluids and paracetamol the best remedy. Eric thanked the doctor, locked the front door, and drifted off into an exhausted sleep. 

— 

He knew the message was going to be there when he woke up, but it still made his heart stutter when he saw it: 

Winksy: Told you so 

Eric felt like shit, but he couldn’t stop an exasperated grin from breaking out across his face. He smushed his smiling face into the pillow and slowly fell back asleep. 

— 

When Eric woke up again he heard the sound of plates banging in the kitchen and he sat up straight, his head pounding, adrenaline spiking. He checked his phone - it was the evening, he’d slept all day - and crept down the stairs, praying to god that if it was an intruder the dogs would temporarily morph into vicious beasts to protect him. 

It was Dele, heating up a tin of soup and typing away on his phone one handed. He had a key of course, needed one for helping out with the dogs, and Eric’s heart warmed at the sight of him. 

“Hello,” he croaked, coming into the room and sitting down at the breakfast bar, petting the dogs with his feet. “Nice to see you.” 

“Alright, you invalid?” Dele said, looking up and grinning. “Thought I’d bring you some dinner. And let the dogs out. Since I’m a great friend.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Pass me those painkillers?” 

Dele slid the paracetamol along the counter and Eric swallowed two dry, glancing at the clock to estimate what time they’d kick in. 

“How you feeling?” 

“Like shit.” 

“Why is Harry blowing up my phone asking if you’re okay?” 

Eric blinked at Dele. “Harry who?” 

“Harry Potter. Who do you think?” 

Eric sighed and shrugged, eyes dropping to his knees. “I dunno?” 

“Something you aren’t telling me?” 

Eric’s eyes snapped back up. “No,” he blurted, a nanosecond too quickly. 

Dele narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care if there is. You could do worse.” 

“There is literally nothing. I don’t know why he’s texting you, because he’s not texting me. Sure it’s not you two having a thing?” 

Dele took the pan off the gas and poured the soup out into a bowl, hot liquid splashing all over the counter as it sloshed over the metal lip. “Let him come over? He’s doing my head in.” 

Eric didn’t say anything. He took the soup and waved at Dele as he left, alone once again with his thoughts and a body that was intent on destroying him. 

*** 

Eric wasn’t allowed to return to work even after the flu had vacated his body - the doctors were determined that he rest, insisting that if he pushed himself too hard he’d be floored for months. Rest, they said. You need to rest. 

He couldn’t just stay in the house, though, so he went out a couple of times with the boys, did some running, some conditioning in his basement gym. He did things to keep himself busy and did not think about Harry Winks - about his ridiculous chocolate button eyes and his unanswered ‘told you so’ text - but he specifically did nothing particularly exhausting. He stayed within the guidelines set by his doctor. 

That was why, when he found out he had tonsillitis, he was so pissed off. 

“How!” He squeaked at the doctor, his throat like barbed wire. “I’ve done what you told me to do!” 

“Have you been on public transport?” 

Eric thought. He’d taken the tube to go for dinner with the boys, but he didn’t see what that had to do with it. “Yeah?” 

“Did you hold the railings?” 

Eric wracked his brains. He’d stood up for that pregnant woman, yeah. “Yeah?” 

“These bugs are everywhere at this time of year. Hand to mouth, happens in seconds. Nothing you can do. I’m going to prescribe you a course of antibiotics, which you’ll have to take for the next ten days. You shouldn’t return to work for another two weeks, alright?” 

— 

Eric got home and plopped onto the sofa dejectedly. He hadn’t played properly for months, for fucks sake - he could feel his body withering, his muscles atrophying. His brain was turning to mush. He was sick of the sight of the house, sick of daytime TV (one could only stomach so much Jeremy Kyle). He tipped his head back against the back of the couch and sighed, feeling at his swollen tonsils and cursing the people of London who didn’t know how to wash their hands. 

The doorbell went and the dogs jumped up, knocking Eric from his self pity. He pulled himself up, ready to tell Dele he didn’t need him, it was just a sore throat. Eric yanked open the front door and opened his mouth but was rendered speechless by the sight of Harry Winks bursting into the house like a rat up a drainpipe, stepping right past Eric like he wasn’t there and waving his arms animatedly, monologuing about something Eric couldn’t quite catch. He watched as Harry pushed off a pair of high tops, patting the dogs on the head and raising a Tesco bag for life away from their noses. His cheeks were pink with the cold but he was dressed in soft clothes, joggers and a sweatshirt, his hair finely styled as always. 

“... so that’s why I’m here, clearly not able yourself, the house probably needs a deep clean too, must be germs everywhere, for the good of the club, suffering without you honestly, this has gone on for three months now - Eric?” 

Eric blinked at Harry. 

“Close the front door, will you? And your mouth, too, before more germs get in it?” 

Eric closed the door, and his mouth, and followed Harry into the kitchen, where he began unloading the bag. He pulled out the ingredients for chicken soup, a box of lemsips, a tub of Vicks, a packet of Fabs, a bottle of Powerade and some ritz crackers. Eric watched him potter around for a few moments before he blurted “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Harry froze and looked over at him. “I’m looking after you?” 

“But... why?” 

Harry looked a bit bashful then, and it made Eric feel things. “Because no one else has been. And you keep getting poorly, so.” 

Eric couldn’t think of anything to say, so he sat himself down instead and watched as Harry made the soup, guiding him to the necessary utensils as appropriate. When the soup was ready they ate it together at the counter. It tasted great and Eric’s stomach growled at the smell of it, earning him a glance from Harry who was no doubt sure he was starving in here like some street orphan. 

Harry put the bowls away when they were finished and herded Eric into the sitting room, the tub of Vicks in his hand. Eric wasn’t sure what he was planning to do with it until Harry pushed him to stand in the middle of the room and said “Right, take your top off and I’ll rub some of this on you.” 

Eric’s mouth went dry. “I don’t have a cold - “ 

“C’mon, Dier, we need to get you better,” Harry insisted, tapping his sock against the carpet. Eric wanted to wrap him up and cuddle him to death. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, a silent game of chicken. And then, before he could second guess himself, Eric pulled on the back of his jumper and pulled it over his head, letting it drop in a pile at his feet. Eric watched Harry’s throat move as he stared, eyes darting across nipples and hips and snail trail - and then he was moving, walking around Eric and unscrewing the Vicks. 

“It’ll be cold,” Harry murmured, and then his hand was on Eric’s back, rubbing the minty balm in circular motions that had Eric rolling his neck. His skin tingled as Harry rubbed at it, taking his time to get at the muscles around his shoulder blades, up onto the back of his neck. 

When he was done with that Harry returned to Eric’s front and his face was red. Eric wanted to whine or touch or speak but he couldn’t, so he stood there silently as Harry dipped into the pot and started rubbing over his right peck, up into his collar bone, his clavicle. He held his breath when Harry did his left side because there was no way he couldn’t feel Eric’s heart thumping through his rib cage. He rubbed Eric’s skin meticulously, eyes following his hand’s progress. 

Harry cleared his throat and stepped back. “Put your top back on,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. “Please.” 

Eric wanted to say something funny to ease the tension, and his mind raced as he bent down to pick up his shirt, the heady smell of vapo rub cool in his nostrils. He couldn’t think at first, mind blank, and then he said “Bet that’d be weird on your dick, that Vicks, but bet it’d feel alright,” and he realised too late that it wasn’t funny, it wasn’t going to ease the tension, and that Harry was about to combust. 

Harry’s eyes widened and then squeezed shut and Eric watched as hot colour flooded his face, turning him from pink to scarlet, and there, in his stupid grey joggers, the unmistakeable sign of a hardening up dick. Eric stared at it, eyes flickering from Harry’s face to his crotch, before he pulled himself away, dragging his shirt on and talking loudly to the dogs. 

“Peepees, guys!” He said, clapping his hands. “Outside, fellas, come on!” 

He took the dogs to the back door and when he returned Harry was more composed, sat on the couch with a leg folded beneath him and the remote in his hand. Eric sat down heavily on the other side of the couch, pulling a pillow into his lap and watching as Harry settled on Home and Away. 

Things were awkward and tense until Harry started speaking again, telling Eric happily about the characters and the storylines and other inane facts about Australia. Eric listened him yammer on, thinking that the room was brighter with Harry in it, and then he interrupted - “Why do you always send me the shrimp emoji?” 

Harry stilled, blinked. “No I don’t?” 

“Yes you do. All the time. The pink shrimp.” 

“I - are you talking about the sea monkey?” 

“What?” 

“The sea monkey emoji?” 

Eric pulled out his phone. “Harry, that’s a fucking prawn. A shrimp, mate.” 

Harry blinked at the emoji on Eric’s screen and raised his eyebrows. “Dele told me it’s a sea monkey,” he muttered. 

“Please stop listening to anything he tells you,” Eric laughed, ignoring the way laughter made his throat hurt. “This is too funny - I’m going to post that on my story,” he joked, opening the Instagram app. 

“Don’t you dare!” Harry shrieked, diving across the sofa. “Eric! Eric Dier! No!” He grabbed for Eric’s phone but Eric was too fast, raising it above Harry’s head. Harry sat up with a hand on Eric’s shoulder for leverage and scrambled for the phone, grabbing it and leaping back to his side of the couch. Eric was on him immediately, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. One of Harry’s thighs was between Eric’s and they were breathing heavily, smiles sliding off their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes. 

“Why do you keep sending me sea monkeys, then?” Eric said quietly, hand still unnecessarily wrapped around both of Harry’s wrists. 

“You said you loved having them when you were a kid,” Harry explained, blushing for the hundredth time. “Before you were allowed to get dogs, your parents made you get sea monkeys.” 

Eric couldn’t even remember telling Harry that, but it was true, so he must’ve. He swallowed and looked at Harry’s face, heart thumping again. “I - I would kiss you, but I’d get you sick,” he said, barely able to believe he was doing it. He could blame it on the illness fucking with his sanity, he told himself. 

“Had my tonsils out when I was ten.” Harry opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out and Eric saw that there were indeed no tonsils in there. 

He grinned. “You’re unbelievable.” 

Neither of them were doctors and they both knew Harry would probably get sick after this, but it was worth it for the way he lifted his head and pressed his lips to Eric’s mouth, like he’d planned this all along, a squirming ball of heat underneath Eric’s body that whimpered beautifully when he bit down on Harry’s bottom lip. The team was going to suffer if both of them were out, but Eric figured they’d manage. After all these months of shittiness, he deserved something fun and nice and good. Harry Winks was all those things.


End file.
